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from Chris Wayan's Journal, May 1990
We joke, but we watch the screen.
We hear (if not really listen to) bad songs,
the dumb dance thump.
We breathe subsidized fire,
Rebel with criminal hemp.
We drink fuel to forget us.
All is to forget. Addicts of oblivion,
We deny the hook. Divide our distractions,
Rate each sliver, to mask their hulking mass.

TV's a dull lowclass drug,
sex a rule-breaking hurricane,
books noble but movies more fun,
love admirable and risky,
booze sad, fights dumb,
acid passť, romance feminine,
theft rebellious, martyrdom obsolete,
dieting normal, gluttony granted, invisible.

Bored? You can skip ahead, skip the list.
Fast forward! Fast
forwarding to the good bits is sensible.
And caretaking is warm,
glamor is sexy, solitude crazy,
psychology spiritual, status fulfilling,
money freeing, speed progressive,
the other speed degenerate,
efficiency American, possessions playful,
poverty willful, lying cool,
sports hearty, power sneaky,
tranks tragic, approval essential,
cars liberating, nicotine sleazy,
God (31 flavors) annoying,
work necessary, pot seedy,

creativity justified (if paid for),
utterly mockable (if unpaid),
gambling tough, caffeine routine,
shopping banal, crack black,
puking pathetic, chocolate lovable.

To say nothing of the net
which hasn't hooked us yet.

A thousand more drugs, each
alone in its apartment, ignoring
the neighbors unless they get loud.
Thus the hideous rainbow hides.

All the Americans, tech-gods all,
Live in this box of wonders,
blinded by their rainbows,
and outside (really in) our bodies yell
to be let in (really out) like cats at the door.

Excuse me, the cat is at the door.

I'm back now.
Such innocence about our horrible dis-ease.
Our best are junkies, and the worst are full
Of passionless voracity.
Drunken nation
At the wheel of a blind car:
No computereyes can stop the crash!
We look away from us--
at anything, sweet nothings,
to dull the soul claws--
Look away, look away,
Look away, dicty land.

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